"Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey" aspires to be in the category of "so naughty it's good" by depicting what it would be like if Winnie-the-Pooh became a sadistic killer alongside his face-devouring friend, Piglet. This English production, which opens in 1,500 theaters across the United States this week, aims to make fun of childhood nostalgia, as exemplified by what happens to poor Christopher Robin (Nikolai Leon) when he returns home from college to discover that his childhood pals have turned into human-hating murderers. They make their first kill before some flashy, forensic opening credits straight out of a 2000s horror film. But, as shocking as it may sound, the perversion of A.A. Milne's work is not a contributing factor to the problem. "Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey" has no rhythm as either a horror or a comedy, and it's too dim to be worth a curious look. Writer/director/editor Rhys Frake-Waterfield wants you to "turn your brain off," as the moviegoing adage goes, but that's difficult to do when its poorly lit sequences force you to squint to decipher its nighttime terror in 100 Acre Wood.


The term "leave no trace" refers to the lack of evidence of a link between a person's behavior and the presence of a trace of a contaminant in the environment. Those reveals, according to the mildly amused reactions of other people in the theater, are the film's most consistent chuckles, and I agree. You never tire of seeing Frake-Pooh Waterfield's and Piglet (played by Craig David Dowsett and Chris Cordell, respectively) portrayed as towering psychopaths, but the film also makes you wish it tried harder.


Despite its simplification, "Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey" struggles to stand out outside of its irreverent IP comic relief. Remove the Pooh and Piglet references, and you're left with a drab stalker thriller that uses its one-dimensional characters as punchlines for gory scenes that its limited budget can't fully support. Five women (Maria Taylor, Natasha Tosini, Natasha Rose Mills, Amber Doig-Thorne, and Danielle Ronald) have gathered at a remote cabin near Pooh and Piglet's sadistic kingdom. Frake-Waterfield doesn't even entertain us with much development or care for these women; we already know that one of them, Maria Taylor's Maria, is traumatized by a man who stalks her in the city, and this is her escape. "Blood and Honey" then lumps her in with other easy targets for easier shocks: the women are as gullible as anyone deeply offended by this movie, and we're meant to laugh at each poor choice these characters make.


It's not the first time this has happened. Pooh and Piglet proceed to terrorize these women, with a few other victims thrown in for good measure, sometimes in a ritualistic manner. It only becomes unsettling when it is so obvious. There are a lot of women suffering from head trauma, many of whom have black hair. Oh, dear.


Whether one finds this film's promise enticing or repulsive, the terror scenes are far too drawn out, stuffed with unnecessary beats that create dead air. There are many improvised scenes of stalking or screams for help, in which everyone is stuck waiting for a larger storytelling vision to round out the joke. Piglet is seen walking in a shallow indoor pool, wielding a sledgehammer at his prey in one scene that lacks self-awareness. A funny setup, but the scene itself moves very slowly. The entire project has that perplexing flaw—how do you cut a premise like this down to the bone, with Pooh and Piglet running around for 85 minutes, and make the film so boring?


"Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey" will already be a success for some because it has been completed and distributed (and a sequel has been announced). I understand why some people want to see what a blood-splattering Winnie-the-Pooh movie looks like, serviceable filmmaking be damned. (We enjoy Super Bowl commercials in the same way, but perhaps not at feature length.) But, if seen at all, Frake-film Waterfield's is the kind of depressing curiosity best shared with a friend, to be amused or commiserated with. Preferably if they're footing the bill.